


If The Fates Allow

by Lavellington



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M, and todd and farah go along for the ride, dirk explores holiday traditions, like for real the fluffiest christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 13:31:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavellington/pseuds/Lavellington
Summary: Dirk was familiar with Christmas in theory but not practice. Todd and Farah were happy to go along for the ride.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays/Season's Greetings/Happy Month of Thinking the Worst of the Year is Over Only to Be Continually Surprised
> 
> We all need some fluff this holiday season, and Dirk is here to deliver. Don't come in here looking for Serious Character Development, it's all tinsel and smooching. 
> 
> Check out the [amazing art ](http://edenavari.tumblr.com/post/168929476201/here-they-are-my-contribution-to-the-dghda) Edenavari did for this fic!
> 
> Thank you to the Christmas Bang mods for organising this. I love and appreciate you.
> 
> (Title is from Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. There are many wonderful versions of this song, but the one I was listening to was by Aimee Mann, from her Christmas album [One More Drifter in The Snow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tG-BjRSwz-w) (it's also on Spotify). This is also the album that is playing in the background in the final chapter when Dirk and Todd are making mulled wine. I recommend it!)

_Through the years, we all will be together_

_If the fates allow_

_Hang a shining star upon the highest bough_

 

 

It was only when the leaves started to change that Dirk realised it had been over a year.

It had been autumn when he first came to Seattle, but then again not quite–it was still warm enough that when he and Todd fell asleep in a Jeep under the stars, it felt like an adventure, and not like the desperation of cold air nipping at his nose and fingers. The end of summer, then, or maybe something in between. The Patrick Spring case had come out of nowhere, and it slid neatly into the gap between seasons, a dividing line the likes of which Dirk's life had never seen: an unprecedented Event.

The case lasted forever and no time at all, and then he was taken somewhere else. He was bundled into the back of a sleek black van in the wake of summer, and tumbled out of a car boot, wet and shivering, straight into a winter that came too early and with no mercy. Blackwing took that autumn from him, took over _two months_ , and replaced falling orange leaves with sterile walls and narrow beds and constant, jangling shocks. Dirk should have spent that time with his new friends, wearing scarves and drinking silly lattes, finding out all of Todd's favourite songs and annoying Farah into teaching him to be a ninja. Instead, he spent it in that dreadful place, which somehow smelled musty and too clean all at once, where no one ever listened to him or looked him in the eye, and he didn't have a name.

Then came the next Event: the Bergsberg case. Over a year later, Dirk still didn't like to think about that. Even the good bits were all tangled up with that sick, queasy feeling, the feeling that he was slowly drowning, and dragging every good and bright thing underneath with him.

The long and the short of it was that due to these Events–and the fallout which hit him somewhat brutally afterwards–the passage of time got away from him in an even more spectacular fashion than usual, and before he knew where he was, it was January. It was a whole new year, he was still alive, he still had friends, and he had a real, _actual_ detective agency. Those things seemed like a fair trade when weighed up against the loss of two measly seasons. He would have given much more–would have shed a decade in an instant like an old jacket –if it meant keeping Todd, and Farah, and the wholly improbable life that came along with them.

Time passed, as it was wont to do, and Dirk had yet to find the limits of this new good fortune. He woke every morning and balanced the days like plates in the air, trying not to mark them too much as they passed, in case that was the thing that brought everything crashing down. But every day Todd was there, was smiling and rolling his eyes at him, was making him watch films that he'd never seen, was standing protectively between him and things that wanted to hurt him. Todd was there, and had been there longer than anyone else ever had, and it seemed wrong to let that pass without notice.

Dirk began, cautiously, to watch the time pass.

At first it made him feel queasy, like watching scenery whip past out of a car window. Then it made him feel dizzy, like standing on a bridge and looking down into the rushing water. He began to notice the days of the week: he bought a calendar. This made him panicky at first, made him think of a smooth, frictionless voice that woke him every morning, intoning _Day 30, Day 50, Day 63,_ in a placid, inexorable march. He calmed down somewhat when he realised that the days weren't all the same–that he could distinguish between them as easily as his different jackets, if he was really paying attention. He started to wear the yellow jacket on Fridays, because Fridays felt yellow to him. Tuesdays were blue, and Thursdays vacillated wildly, which he quite liked. Saturdays were his favourite, because on Saturdays Todd would walk into the living room of their shared flat at the same time every week without fail, arms full of blankets and popcorn, and announce, "Movie night!"

The upshot of all of this was that, by the time Dirk got his bearings, maybe for the first time ever, the leaves had started to change.

It was unnerving to realise that he had moved beyond _weeks_ and _months_ –that he could now look at Todd and think _a year_ , that he had kept him for that long. He took back the autumn he'd lost: dragged Todd for coffee, went for walks in the park, wore warm jackets and jumpers that looked nothing like jumpsuits. He bought Todd a new amp for his birthday, because Todd already had a guitar, but out of a perverse sense of guilt had never replaced most of the equipment that he sold all those years ago. He had to ask Amanda how on earth one went about choosing an amp, of course, and had to watch Todd struggle through a solid sixty seconds of self-reproach and unpleasant memories of falsified police reports before his grimace gave way to a genuine smile, and he thanked Dirk, softly.

(He admitted to Todd the next day, after extensive questioning, that his own birthday had been in July–that he'd let it pass unnoticed. Todd had seemed almost angry for a few moments, but then his face changed and he asked Dirk, quietly, when he'd last had a birthday present. Dirk had fumblingly changed the subject, had not admitted that he couldn't remember any pre-Blackwing birthdays, and the CIA hadn't been big on festivities. He hadn't even known how old he was until two years after he got out, when a young girl who was very angry and very good with computers had helped him find his birth certificate. That would have made Todd sad, though, the fact that Dirk had lost so much time.)

The days whipped by, at a slightly steadier pace than before.

One day, over two months after he noticed the leaves changing, and over a year and two months after he first came to Seattle, and seven weeks after Todd's birthday, Dirk received his morning coffee in a rather festive looking red cup. He looked at it blankly for a few moments, then raised his head to see a plastic green tree strewn with winking lights, and thought _oh_.

 _Christmas_.

 

*

 

Todd was sitting at his desk, blinking and yawning at his computer, when Dirk charged into the room, holding two takeout coffee cups and looking manic. His cheeks and nose were red, probably partly from the cold weather, and partly from the fact he'd apparently run all the way back from Starbucks. One of his shirt cuffs was damp and coffee-stained. He looked wildly around the room for a moment before locating Todd at his _desk_ , where he sat every single day, and then rushed over, slamming the coffee down in front of him.

"Christmas!" he yelled.

Todd blinked at him.

"Good morning."

"Todd, _focus_." Dirk shoved one of the coffee cups under Todd's nose, and Todd noticed, for the first time, that it was red, with little snowflakes on it. Dirk shook it slightly, slopping more coffee over his hand. "Christmas!"

"Right," Todd agreed, gently extricating the cup from Dirk's hand so that he could take a sip. "Christmas. In like... six weeks."

Dirk looked at him attentively, eyebrows raised, with the air of a guy who had just posed a specific question and was expecting a detailed response, maybe with diagrams. Todd sighed.

"Dirk, I'm not sure what you're getting at here."

"It's Christmas in six weeks," Dirk said. "So what do we... _do_?"

"I don't know," Todd said, making a face at his lukewarm coffee. "What do you want to do?"

Dirk opened his mouth, closed it again, and looked around the office like he might find festive inspiration pinned to the corkboard, or lurking under his desk. Todd felt his heart sink.

"Have you ever... I mean, do you celebrate Christmas? Usually?"

"No," Dirk said, "not as such. Not _celebrate_ , no."

"But you want to this year?"

"Yes," Dirk said, nodding vigorously. "I thought _we_ could... I mean, unless you have plans. With your parents."

"Nah," Todd said. Dirk looked hopeful. "My parents aren't really big on holidays. They usually take a trip somewhere warm this time of year. We can do whatever you want."

"Right," Dirk said, his eyes widening alarmingly. "Whatever I want. Excellent, good, yes."

His shoulders began, slowly, to inch towards his ears.

"Or," Todd said, sensing danger, "we could come up with ideas together. Maybe ask Farah if she wants in too."

" _Yes_ ," Dirk said, his shoulders relaxing. "Good idea, Todd. See, that's one good idea already!"

He bounded over to the whiteboard, picked up a green marker, and wrote _Christmas Ideas_ at the top in his usual looping scrawl. Underneath he wrote, _#1: Ask Farah to help with ideas_. Todd raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

Dirk stood back and looked at the board, his arms folded. He raised one hand to tap on his chin. He moved back towards the board and hesitantly wrote _#2: Red hats_ in green marker. He looked at Todd uncertainly.

Todd nodded.

"Good call," he said. "Red stuff is automatically Christmassy. Unless it involves blood. Blood's not festive."

"Noted," Dirk said.

"Put it on the board," Todd said.

Dirk sighed and complied. _#3,_ he wrote carefully. _No injuries - unfestive!!_

"Thank you," Todd said, pushing his cold coffee away and getting up to make a fresh pot. Their office was two blocks from the nearest Starbucks, but Dirk could never be trusted to go out for coffee and come back with something hot and drinkable. He inevitably got distracted by a cute dog, or a dead body, or the existence of Christmas, and Todd ended up making more.

"What else?" Dirk said, staring at the board as Todd put fresh water in the coffee machine and started hunting through their drawers for filters. "Oh! I know!"

Todd finally got the machine going and turned around to see the latest item on the list:

_#4: Presents_

He snorted.

"If we both manage to get through the next six weeks without any injuries, that'll be present enough for me."

"Honestly, Todd," Dirk said, dimpling at him. "You must set your sights a little higher."

Todd smiled and looked away.

"You forgot the most important thing," he said, directing his words to the coffee cups. He could feel Dirk staring at him.

"What?" Dirk said, crowding up behind him. "What's the most important thing? Mittens? Jesus? Capitalism?"

Todd stifled a laugh as he turned around, and under the guise of handing Dirk a coffee–which he automatically accepted–stole his marker.

"Hey!" Dirk said. "That's _mine_."

"It's my turn," Todd said. He walked over to the board and wrote underneath Dirk's careless cursive, _#5: Fairy lights._

 _"Fairy lights_ ," Dirk breathed. He had the expression of a man who had glimpsed a world of possibilities.

"A shitload," Todd confirmed. "At least."

"And we'll need a tree, right?" Dirk looked to him for confirmation.

"Yeah," Todd said, "if you want. I mean we can go as traditional or as non traditional as we want here. It's not like we're required by law to sing carols and eat mince pies–"

Dirk bounced on his heels, almost adding a fresh layer of filter coffee to the double espresso adorning his sleeve.

"Add those to the list!" he said, his eyes shining. "And let's get those... things as well. The things you pull, and they make a noise."

"Crackers?" Todd said, obediently adding _Tree, Music, Pie_ to the list.

"Yes," Dirk said, "clackers, fantastic. And do they come _with_ the paper hats, or do we purchase those separately?"

Todd took a strategic sip of coffee to stop himself from either laughing or crying, but he was saved from having to address any part of that sentence by the entrance of Farah.

"Good morning," she said, hanging up her jacket.

"Farah!" Dirk said, at the same time Todd said, "Morning."

"What's going on?" Farah looked at the board. Todd watched her face journey from confused to resigned to reluctantly fond, and grinned at her.

"We're doing Christmas!" Dirk was bouncing again, and Farah gently took the coffee from him and put it on the counter by the sink.

"Isn't it a little early to start planning for Christmas?" she asked, but she was already moving towards the board. Todd raised his eyebrows and held out the marker. Her lips twitched as she took it, and she wrote _#10:_ _Mulled wine_ in a neat hand beneath Todd's messy _crackers._

"Ooh," Dirk said, "good one, Farah."

"Also," she said, handing Todd back the marker, "we used to watch _It's a Wonderful Life_ every year when I was a kid, but I think if we're gonna do that, we'll definitely need the wine first."

"Good idea," Todd said, writing _#11: Christmas movies_ on the board. He carefully drew a little Christmas tree in the corner, and heard Farah snort.

"What is that?" Dirk said, squinting. "A crocodile?"

"It's a _tree_ ," Todd said, rubbing the tree out with the heel of his hand.

"Oh," Dirk said, "don't rub it out! It was really good!"

Todd threw the marker at him.

"I think I'm spending Christmas Day with Eddie this year," Farah said, rubbing at a smudge of green on the whiteboard and ignoring Dirk's dramatic and ineffective flailing as he attempted to catch the marker. "But if you guys want, we can do gifts on Christmas Eve?"

"Perfect!" Dirk said, bending to pick up the marker. "And we'll have mulled wine and mince pies and watch a Christmassy film."

"That's great," Todd said. "About Eddie."

Farah smiled tightly at him.

"We'll see how it goes."

Dirk reached over and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. She smiled, and Todd recognised in her expression the same impulse that drove him to doodle a stupid Christmas tree on the board, and would later drive him to go shopping for tinsel and fairy lights and make a Christmas playlist on his phone.

Dirk wrote carefully on the board, _#12: Christmas Eve with Todd and Farah_ , and turned to grin at them both.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Now that he had attuned to the Christmas frequency, as it were, Dirk marvelled that he had ever managed to ignore it. Everywhere he looked were tinselled trees and twinkly lights, or pictures of smiling elves and inexplicably sentient snowpeople, all with a plethora of helpful gift ideas. These ideas ran the gamut from liquor to lingerie to woolly socks, and at least every second one seemed to be a perfume, cologne, or similar smelly thing.

The more sophisticated variety of advertisement bypassed the elves and went straight for the psychological angle, wondering innocently how long it had been since you'd called your mother, reminding you gently that she wasn't getting any younger, and suggesting that a nice bottle of perfume was just the thing to rejuvenate your relationship this Christmas. The whole thing was fascinating.

And the music! They had flippantly added "christmas music" to their list, Dirk thinking vaguely of Good King Wenceslas, and that Mariah Carey one. He had been completely ignorant of the sheer variety of sentimental, bell-jangling festivity that phrase encompassed. The themes ranged from the romantic, to the pseudo-religious, to stories of intrepid reindeer (and more living snowpeople, for some reason –Dirk made a note to ask Todd about this) to people who seemed to _actually_ want to have sex with Santa Claus, or perhaps with the abstract concept of Christmas. Dirk took careful notes, and compiled a list of questions to ask Todd, since they were a little slow on the case front.

"Does that... does that say, _ask Todd about Santa porn_?"

Dirk twisted in his chair to see Farah standing behind him, eyebrows raised.

"Farah!"  he said.  "Excellent! Perhaps you can answer some of these questions–"

"Nope," Farah said, and Dirk put his notebook down, deflating.

"I have to find out about these things somewhere, and I feel as though the internet would be a mistake in this case."

"That's a good instinct," Farah said. She coughed and folded her arms in the way that meant she was about to say something important. Dirk regarded her attentively. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something. It's kind of... a favour."

"Of course," he said immediately. "Whatever you need."

Farah's shoulders relaxed slightly, and she smiled at him.

"Well," she said,  pulling a chair up to the desk beside him, "the truth is, I'm kind of new to the Christmas thing too. My family wasn't really..."

"You're welcome to consult my notes," Dirk said, offering them to her.

"Uh... thanks,"  she said. "Actually, I was thinking maybe you and I could go shopping together."

"Oh!" Dirk said, bouncing a little. "Fantastic idea! I need some shopping support, if I'm honest. I tried yesterday but the whole thing was so confusing and garish I just sort of did a lap of the department store and left again. It was like the house within the Cardenas house, but with _salespeople._ One of them sprayed cologne on me!"

Farah looked briefly horrified.

"Without _asking_?"

"It was a cologne ambush," Dirk confirmed. "And he was dressed as an elf."

"Okay," Farah said, regrouping and squaring her shoulders. "Okay. We've dealt with worse. We can do this."

"I believe in us," Dirk said, solemnly.

 

_Twenty Minutes Later_

 

"Okay," Farah said, standing just inside the door of Macy's with the demeanour of a fierce warrior who's arrived at the battlefield only to discover they've left their best broadsword in their other armour, "I can't do this."

"Hey," Dirk said, darting around her and blocking her exit, "whoa! Come on, Farah! Where's your Christmas spirit?"

"Dirk," Farah said, "you are one of my dearest friends. But if you don't get out of my way, I'll have to render you unconscious."

"Okay," Dirk said, moving aside with his hands in the air, "but there was a reason you suggested this trip, and–although I'm a little in the dark about what it is–there was a reason you asked me to come with you, and not Todd. If you leave now, you're letting the cologne-spraying elves win."

Farah hesitated, glancing between Dirk and the door. Dirk tried to look simultaneously pathetic and quietly dependable. Farah sighed, passing her hand over her face.

"Fine," she said. "Where do you suggest we start?"

"I suggest we start by getting out of this truly terrifying store," Dirk said. "I'm sure I can find somewhere a bit more our speed."

 

Dirk, despite Farah's skepticism, managed to steer them to a store that was very festively decorated and much less intimidating than Macy's. They took a couple of steps inside, Dirk sticking close beside Farah, and were greeted by the smell of pine and the sound of soft Christmas music. And elderly woman behind the register smiled tranquilly at them and went back to her knitting. Farah relaxed a little, looking around.

"This place actually looks pretty good," she admitted.

"See," Dirk said, bouncing on his heels, "you should have a little more faith in–" he broke off, grabbing her shoulder. "Farah, _look_!"

He was across the shop in an instant, honing in on the most [magnificent hat](https://www.oldbyre.co.uk/img/product//christmas-pudding-hat-7680-0-1510138069000.jpg) he'd ever seen in this dimension. It was knitted, and cosy-looking, and shaped like a Christmas pudding.

"It's perfect," he breathed. Farah approached, standing by his shoulder.

"It's very... you," she said, smiling.

"Oh!" he said, picking up a [knitted elf hat](http://www.honeytouchdesigns.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/019b8557ed8118ed9f2331de2155c20a3b581c8c15.jpg) sitting next to it, "I can get this one for Todd!"

"I'm not sure–" Farah began.

"And you can wear this one!" he picked up a [hat](http://www.awesomeinventions.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/knitetd-christmas-tree-hat.jpg) shaped like a Christmas tree. "Our agency will be so festive! Oh, but if this is your Christmas gift, you shouldn't see it yet!"

He put his hand over Farah's eyes.

"Dirk," she sputtered, batting his hand away, "I already saw it! Look, I promise to act surprised, okay?"

"Okay," he said, reluctantly lowering his hand. "Who's next? Are you getting gifts for Tina and Hobbs?"

Farah coughed, looking at her feet.

"Farah?"

"I...got something for Hobbs already. And for you and Todd. It's actually Tina I'm having trouble with."

"Really?" Dirk said. "I should think Tina will love anything you get her. You know how much she likes you."

Farah shifted from foot to foot, avoiding his eyes.

"I like her too. In fact, we recently had a conversation, in which we, uh. Discussed the extent to which we... really like each other."

"Oh," Dirk said, and then, " _oh_! Farah, that's wonderful!"

He hugged her before he could think better of it, but Farah squeezed him back, and when he pulled away, she was smiling.

"Thanks, Dirk."

"Is that why you asked me to come shopping, and not Todd?" Dirk was on an interpersonal _roll_ today.

"Yeah," Farah said. "It's not like it would be weird, I don't think. There's nothing like that between me and Todd anymore. But I kind of thought, if there was something I was _supposed_ to get for her... you would help me get to it. You don't mind?"

"No," Dirk said, feeling actually rather touched. "Don't you worry, Farah. We'll find Tina the perfect gift."

"Since this isn't actually a case," Farah said, "do you think there's a chance of us finding what we're looking for without serious injury?"

"I guarantee it," Dirk said confidently. "And by guarantee I mean I'm almost 65% sure that there is relatively little chance of physical or psychological injury. Besides, I promised Todd. Injuries are unfestive."

"Agreed," Farah said. "Okay, let's do this."

 

 

*

 

"You're asking me... if I want to have sex with Santa Claus," Todd said, slowly.

He was sitting opposite Dirk in a coffee shop a few blocks from the agency offices. He'd found Dirk here, scribbling in a notebook, half an hour ago, and now apparently he was being enlisted to help with Dirk's Christmas research. He... hadn't expected it to start off this way.

"Or with the abstract concept of Christmas," Dirk confirmed, pen poised over his notebook as he apparently waited for Todd to come to terms with the idea of Santa Claus as a sexual being.

"The–" Todd pinched the bridge of his nose. "How would I have sex with an abstract concept?"

"Don't be so literal, Todd," Dirk said, impatiently. "It's just a general query about the nature of your feelings towards Christmas."

"Well, " Todd said, "I like Christmas. I'm just not sure if I _like_ like it."

"So, this festive coffee cup," Dirk said, picking one up and displaying it enticingly, "it doesn't stir anything in you?"

"No, Dirk," Todd said, "I am not sexually aroused by festive coffee cups, thanks for asking."

"What about the smell of pine?" Dirk asked. "Or fairy lights? Do fairy lights do anything for you?"

"No, Dirk," Todd said, "I can't say that they do."

"Hmm," Dirk said, tapping his pen on his chin. "and would you say that you're unusual in this respect? Or is _Santa, Baby_ widely regarded as an unnecessarily provocative song?"

"I've never thought about it much," Todd said, "but I'm pretty sure most people don't want to have sex with Santa Claus."

"Hmm," Dirk said again. "Maybe I should–"

" _Don't_ google it," Todd said, forcefully. "I'm drawing a line in the sand. For the sake of our friendship, and the holiday season, do not google Santa porn."

"Perhaps you're right," Dirk said.

He made a decisive motion with his pencil, and Todd wondered if he had just drawn a line through the words _SANTA PORN_.

There was a moment of silence, in which Todd sipped his coffee, and watched Dirk frowning down at the scribbles in his notebook. Today's tie had little Christmas puddings on it.

"What about snowpeople?" Dirk asked, suddenly.

"You want to know if people want to have sex with Frosty the Snowman?" Todd clarified.

"No," Dirk said, "I'm just wondering what their deal is in general. Although, now you mention it–"

"I'm getting another coffee," Todd said, heaving himself to his feet. "When I come back, I want this conversation to have moved away from Christmas fetishes."

"Noted," Dirk said, "and taken under advisement."

Todd rolled his eyes and went up to the counter.

"Hi," he said, fishing in his jeans for his wallet. "Could I get a black coffee and a..." he sighed inwardly and forged on, "festive cinnamon latte with extra whip?"

The barista grinned at him.

"Coming right up," he said, moving to the machine. "I'm guessing the festive beverage is for your boyfriend?"

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend," Todd said, hunting for his card. He could have _sworn_ he put it back in his wallet. "But yeah, he's the one with the sweet tooth."

"So you two aren't together?"

"No," Todd said, pulling his card triumphantly out of his back pocket. A moment later he blinked as the question sank in. When he looked up at the barista, the guy was eyeing him appraisingly.

"Uh," Todd said. "Actually, we have to get back to work. Could I get those to go?"

"Sure," the barista said, smiling, and Todd took a second to notice that this guy who was hitting on him–or at least who seemed to be _contemplating_ hitting on him–was really good looking. His heart started beating a little faster. He wasn't particularly interested, but given the way his thoughts had been tending lately, this seemed like weird timing. He had spent more than a few nights recently mulling over his–until recently mostly theoretical–bisexuality. He turned to glance at Dirk again, and saw him staring absently out of the window, tapping his pen on his leg. When he turned back, the barista was standing at the register, waiting politely with their drinks.

"Oh," Todd said, hurrying forward, "sorry."

"No problem," the guy said, grinning at him.

Todd flushed and fumbled his way through the payment. How was it possible, he wondered, that he was even less smooth with men than with women? Somewhere, Amanda was laughing and she didn't even know why.

"Come on," he said to Dirk, bringing the drinks over and waving the takeout cups at him. "Let's take these back to the office."

"Okay," Dirk said amiably. He stood up and shrugged into his red jacket, tucking his notebook into his inside pocket. He then reached behind him and produced, seemingly from nowhere, a knitted hat shaped like a Christmas pudding.

"Thanks, Todd," he said, brightly. Todd opened his mouth, staring at the hat, but Dirk was already halfway to the door, so he sighed and jogged after him.

They were halfway back to the office, Dirk babbling about Christmas music the entire way, when suddenly he cut himself off abruptly.

Todd looked over at him. Dirk was staring at Todd's coffee, so Todd prepared himself for another set of inappropriate questions about the relative sensuality of festive and non-festive paper cups. Instead Dirk said, his tone slightly off,

"Looks like you've got an admirer."

Todd blinked at him. "What?"

He looked at the cup and realised the barista had written his phone number on it in black sharpie, with a smiley face at the end. He couldn't help but feel a little proud. Maybe he was smoother than he thought. The Amanda in his brain snorted loudly.

"That's nice," Dirk said, watching him. "Are you going to call him?"

Todd felt his heart begin pounding again. Now was the time to have this conversation - or at least half of it. Dirk had set him up. He just had a to take a deep breath and let it happen.

"No," he said, "I don't think so. He was nice, but I'm not really looking to go on dates with random people I meet in coffee shops right now."

Dirk said nothing, and despite knowing in his heart and mind that him being bisexual would not be any kind of big deal for Dirk, Todd stared straight ahead and refused to meet his eyes. He took a final slug of coffee, swallowing around the lump in his throat, and then threw the cup casually into a nearby trash can.

"So," Dirk said, "you're not looking to date... strangers. That was your objection."

"I've done enough casual dating," Todd said, glancing back at him. Dirk was watching him carefully, his eyes fixed on Todd's face.

"It didn't bother you that he was a man," Dirk said, and Todd almost laughed. Trust Dirk to cut through all the bullshit and force Todd to say the words out loud, even though Dirk hadn't _exactly_ come out to Todd yet himself.

"No," Todd said. "That doesn't bother me. I'm bi. I'm just not looking for anyone new in my life right now."

"Oh," Dirk said, softly. Todd couldn't tell what this revelation meant to Dirk, but it clearly meant something. He felt good–lighter, and more hopeful. He'd had one half of the conversation that he'd been meaning to. As he watched Dirk smile tentatively at him he knew that he'd have to have the other half before too long. His stupid heart sped up again as Dirk as moved closer to him, but he just moved around Todd to throw his cup in the trash too.

They stared at each other for the span of a couple of breaths, waiting for the moment to collapse in on itself. Dirk's nose and cheeks were pink from the cold. Todd could feel the words on his tongue, like the prickle of imminent snow in the air.

"Dirk," he said.

"Yes?" Dirk said, eyes wide.

"Where the hell did you get that hat?"

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Dirk was tramping back from the shops, bearing a brown paper bag full of wine and spices, when he saw his first flakes of snow.

Todd had insisted on being in charge of the wine mulling, although he had (just about) trusted Dirk to go to the grocery store and get the supplies. He had expressed some doubts as to Dirk's ability to follow a shopping list, which Dirk highly resented, but since he had to keep Todd's Christmas present a secret, he couldn't tell him that he and Farah had conducted a highly successful shopping trip only the previous week. Instead he had responded by donning an air of wounded dignity, which had lasted until Todd turned the key in the lock, a secretive grin on his face, and they had walked into their apartment to see a beautiful, _real_ Christmas tree in the living room. Todd had arranged for it to be delivered while they were out, and honestly, how could Dirk stay mad at him after that?

By the time he got back to their apartment building, the snow had stopped, and the thin layer of white on the pavement was turning into dirty slush, but it couldn't ruin Dirk's good mood. It was Christmas Eve, Todd was waiting for him, and he was going to spend the evening with his friends. Even the slush looked picturesque.

"Todd," he yelled, as he let himself in to the apartment. "It's snowing!"

Todd poked his head out of the kitchen. "Really?

"Well," Dirk said, "no. But it was, for about ten minutes!"

He followed Todd into the kitchen, shedding his hat and jacket and throwing them over a convenient chair.

"So," he said, upending his shopping bag on the kitchen counter, "how exactly does one mull wine?"

"Well," Todd said, sorting through the pile of highly necessary items and deftly extracting the _most_ highly necessary ones–i.e., the ones that weren't chocolate Santas and festive tic tacs that Dirk had picked up on impulse while he was standing in the queue–"there's not really much to it."

"You don't need to– _ow–_ mull it over?" Dirk said, doggedly finishing the sentence even as Todd walloped his shoulder with a bag of oranges. "What did you hit me for?"

"Because I knew what you were about to say," Todd said, his lips twitching. "Cut me some orange slices, and break up the cloves and cinnamon sticks. I'm going to put this on a low heat."

Dirk obediently set about preparing the ingredients while Todd poured red wine into a large pot on the stove and threw in one of the little bags of spices.

The smell coming from the pot was already divine.

"Here," Todd said, handing Dirk a half-full wine bottle. "Pour us a couple of glasses. I'll get the playlist."

Dirk poured the unmulled red wine into glasses while a sultry voice started singing about Christmas from the living room. He twisted to look around when the lights went down - Todd had turned on the fairy lights all around the windows and doorways, and was standing by the twinkling Christmas tree, doing something with the playlist on his phone. Dirk stood, two wine glasses in his hands, and watched as Todd raised his head from the screen to smile at him, his face soft and happy in the red and green lighting.

"Looks good," he managed, as Todd came and took a glass from his unresisting hand.

"Yeah," Todd said, still looking pleased. "Amanda's gonna make fun of me, but I kind of like it."

"Why would she make fun of you?" Dirk asked, still stuck on the lights reflected, blinking, in Todd's eyes. "Oh–Isn't Christmas punk?"

"No," Todd said laughing, "it's not. But I know she secretly loves it."

He raised his wine glass.

"To our first proper Christmas," he said, and Dirk raised his glass to clink against his.

"To our Christmas," he echoed.

The wine slipped down his throat like a song.

 

Dirk would later credit–or blame–the wine for his reserves of audacity, but it was probably a combination of factors. The smooth, jazzy Christmas music, the soft lighting, the way his shoulder kept brushing Todd's as they stood next to each other at the kitchen counter.

"You don't need to be so fussy," Todd said, as Dirk presented him with a beautiful circle of equally sized orange slices.

"I'm just trying to do things _properly_ ," Dirk said, wrestling open the packet of cinnamon sticks and breaking one in half. He chucked it into the pot of wine and Todd made an annoyed noise, stepping back so he wouldn't get splashed. "Tree, presents, mulled wine–it's a lot to remember. I want to get it right."

"Those things are just decoration. We got the most important thing right."

Dirk blinked at him. "The fairy lights?"

" _No_ ," Todd said, laughing.

"Well, what then?"

"I'm not really a big Christmas person," Todd said, stirring the wine–or perhaps _mulling_ it, Dirk wasn't exactly sure of the correct terminology–"but I think the important part is that you spend it with people you love."

Dirk went still, his mind stuttering to a halt. Todd stared determinedly into the wine, stirring it a little faster than necessary. Dirk saw a little spatter onto his arm, and Todd slowed down. His cheeks were slowly turning red.

There was a momentary lull in the conversation during which Dirk was vaguely aware of a husky woman's voice singing about chestnuts and open fires, filtering through from the next room. The fumes from the wine and the winking of the lights were making him dizzy.

"Do you," Dirk said, and then stopped. "Did you just–"

"Yeah," Todd said. "Look, I just wanted to... don't make a big deal out if it, okay?"

"I'm sorry," Dirk said, "but I am incapable of treating this as anything other than a very big deal indeed."

"That should be the title of your autobiography," Todd said, exasperated, but he didn't look properly annoyed. He was teasing him, trying to get back onto safe ground. Dirk swallowed and tried to show willing.

"I don't have the attention span to write my own biography," he said, his voice still a little shaky. "I was rather hoping I could count on you to immortalise my exploits, since you're my Watson and all."

Todd laughed, and then turned to him, his eyes smiling as well as his mouth and said, affectionately, "I'm not your Watson, asshole."

Dirk, completely beyond any hope of restraint, leaned forward and clumsily kissed him.

He knew it was clumsy, his relative lack of experience notwithstanding, because it was a little off-centre, and too hard, and too quick. Todd inhaled sharply and jerked his head ever so slightly, so it was more like a glancing contact of lips than anything, but Todd's lips tasted like red wine and clung to Dirk's for a second as he pulled away in a way that made his chest ache and his throat constrict. When he stepped back and looked at Todd's face, Todd looked stunned, his eyes like saucers.

The wine was starting to bubble.

Dirk cleared his throat and looked down at his cinnamon covered hands.

"You should move that," he said, jerking his head at the wine. "It's becoming... over-mulled. Or maybe under-mulled. Either way, I'm fairly sure it shouldn't be bubbling like that. Excuse me, I'm going to go and wash my hands."

He turned to walk out of the kitchen, his eyes prickling and his fingers twitching and his thoughts swelling to a sickening clamour. Maybe he could just get his coat and go for a long walk, maybe tomorrow he could act like nothing had happened and press the reset button on this whole thing. Maybe–

Todd's fingers closed on his upper arm, gently pulling him back towards the warmth of the stove. He stopped trying to leave, but didn't turn or raise his head. He waited.

Todd let go of him and Dirk heard the scraping sound of Todd moving the heavy pot off of the heat, and the click of the stove being turned off. He brushed cinnamon uselessly onto his trousers, blinking and swallowing and _hoping_.

Todd came around to stand in front of him and then just kept going, his momentum carrying him into Dirk's space, his hands cupping Dirk's cheeks.

Dirk's eyes flew up to Todd's face and they stared at each other for a few seconds. The voice in the other room was singing about building a snowman in a meadow. The fairy lights flashed red and green and blue on Todd's skin.

"Dirk," Todd said, and then he kissed him.

It was much better than Dirk's bungled attempt, much smoother and... tinglier. Dirk gripped Todd's waist and let Todd take the lead. He'd forgotten what it was like, kissing another person. Always so much more intimate than he remembered, always so warm and surprising. Todd's tongue brushed his lips and Dirk shuddered.

"Okay?" Todd murmured, pulling back so his forehead rested against Dirk's. Dirk nodded restlessly and kissed Todd again, harder. Todd made a noise into it, and crowded Dirk against the counter, leaning against him.

"Wait!" Dirk said, breaking away. Todd looked at him dazedly, his lips red and shiny, colour high in his cheeks. "I had something for this!"

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and triumphantly took out a sprig of mistletoe he'd picked up on impulse in the supermarket, holding it above his head with a grin.

Todd burst out laughing.

"Oh my god," he said, letting his head drop to rest on Dirk's shoulder. "I can't believe I'm in love with you. You're such a loser."

Dirk experienced a thrill of happiness so monumental it felt almost like fear. He clung to Todd, turning his face into his hair, and waited for the sharp edge to subside.

"I love you too," he said. His voice was low, but Todd was close enough to hear.

 

*

 

By the time Farah arrived, Todd was feeling giddy–a combination of wine and kisses. He'd never been a PDA kind of person, but he wanted to touch Dirk constantly–wanted to hold his hand and brush his hair from his forehead and kiss his wine-fuzzy smiles.

They decided to open their gifts before they watched Farah's Christmas movie, and Todd finally understood Dirk's excitement over his Christmas pudding hat, which had seemed excessive even for him, when he and Farah opened their own knitted monstrosities. He jammed his elf hat on his head immediately.

"I look like an asshole," he announced, still completely unable to stop grinning.

"That's ridiculous," Dirk said, affronted. "If you look like an arsehole then so do I, and I refuse to admit that possibility. I have an infallible eye for headwear."

"I think they're kind of cute," Farah said, pulling her knitted tree over her curls. "As long as, and I say this with love, I never have to wear this in public."

 

 

It was only later, when Farah had fallen asleep, still wearing her tree hat, at the end of Todd's couch, and Dirk was slumped on his shoulder, their fingers laced loosely together, and George Bailey was smiling on screen as all of his neighbours sang Auld Lang Syne, that Todd turned his head into Dirk's hair, and whispered drowsily, 

"Merry Christmas, Dirk."

"Mmm," Dirk said, pressing closer. "I can't wait for next year."


End file.
